


As the night was senescent and star-dials pointed to morn

by FetidCorpse



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bizarre Use of Tags by the Author, Bumblebees in her Stomach, Dramatic Interlude, F/F, Former Patient, Historian Blake, Lukewarm Angst, Post-Internment AU, Post-War, Therapist Yang, Therapy, Weiss suffers the Bees' pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 06:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FetidCorpse/pseuds/FetidCorpse
Summary: Blake visits her therapist Yang, a woman who vaguely reminds her of the boy she knew in the Atlesian Faunus Prison Camps.  He disappeared after stealing food for sick and malnourished faunus in the camps.Blake is at a crossroads.  She has her life figured out, but she doesn't want to cut the woman out of her life now that she has conquered her trauma.  What is she to do?
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	1. The Patient

Blake was lost in the past.

The woman whose office she stood outside reminded her a bit of the impish boy who passed around stolen food in the Camps in Atlas. Many malnourished faunus only survived those trying times because of him and others like him. He'd disappeared after a few months of sneaking into the storeroom to provide extra food. Blake and those in her tent had assumed he'd been captured and killed for the thefts. There had been no small amount of despair before Blake volunteered to steal food for them. Blake hadn't found a way to fight for the faunus from within, until the opportunity to feed her neighbors came along. She hadn't realized how the conditions had weighed upon her before that day. When she saw the gratitude on the faces of the other women and felt the satisfaction of breaking into a storeroom and absconding with an armful of food, she realized just how much the months of passivity had warped her head. That day was the day she broke out of her doldrums and shook off the apathy that confinement fostered. She was by no means happy in her internment, but finding a purpose, a way to fight for her people, gave her a sense of purpose that staved off any sense of despair.

The faunus were only imprisoned for 14 months, but it felt much longer. A year and two months of further dehumanization resulted in every faunus in Atlas making the decision to leave with the departing armies of the other kingdoms, leaving behind the ruin of Atlas for brighter futures abroad. The rest of the world had united to humble Atlas and render their industries, armies, and institutions to rubble. It had taken too long, but that was always the case with injustices on the scale that Atlas perpetuated. It always felt too big to be fought, until that day that it all crumbled down.  
  
Blake shook her head to dash the visions of days gone by. The impish boy carried a memory of a spark. Beyond the office door was a fire contained in flesh. The spark had broken her out of listless melancholy, but it was the fire that reignited her joyfulness, her curiosity, and her longing.  
  
The woman she was here to see had an absurd amount of hair. If Blake were to guess, it was enough hair for five or even six people. This woman, her therapist, hoarded that glorious golden mane all for herself. Blake had been astonished by it when she'd first met Dr. Xiao Long (“call me Yang,” she'd said). Did she even need a pillow to sleep at night? (unknown, Blake didn't know how to ask a question like that without it sounding weird) Was she some sort of faunus with prehensile hair as her trait? (not a faunus, and they'd spent an hour of her second session trying to determine what kind of animal would be the basis for a prehensile-haired faunus with no consensus reached. It had been an ice-breaking exercise Yang started that had gotten out of hand) How does it glow like that? (“It glows?” had been the immediate slightly-panicked response. Apparently it looked normal to Yang, after she'd run to a mirror and returned.)  
  
Blake couldn't stop thinking about her. Yang was not the first therapist she'd been to see, but she was the only one who didn't make Blake feel like she was on trial during her sessions. She was fascinated by her lilac-eyed therapist, and a small part of her didn't want to overcome the echoes of her imprisonment in Atlas. If she conquered these issues, she wouldn't have a reason to come back, to hear that golden laugh and see Yang's face light up as they talked. But... Blake didn't want to live in the past. Blake didn't want to let Atlas linger in her mind. She didn't want to be haunted by memories of despondent faunus, sitting to the side and passively wasting away in the Camps. Yang had helped her take away much of the pain of those memories. She couldn't let that work, that time, go to waste.  
  
There was only one choice for moving forward. She was in a much better place than when she'd first sought out help. She didn't flinch at sirens and horns anymore. She didn't feel like hiding when she saw police officers (it helped that the officers here in Vale wore uniforms vastly different from the Atlesian Police's austere white coats). She felt safe walking around with her ears uncovered. Blake was comfortable enough with the events in Atlas and her part in it, thanks largely to Yang, that Blake had sought out work recording and chronicling the stories of other faunus who had tales of those trying times.

The work was fulfilling and important, and Blake couldn't let down the many faunus who had entrusted her with their stories. If she faltered, if her chronicle were to go unfinished, Blake would have failed them. So, she had worked through her issues. She had fought her demons and left them behind. The world had to know of the horrors of Atlas and not from military reports or sensationalized news reporting. It had to come from the people who had experienced it. It had to be their words, and Blake had to share them before the world forgot.  
  
That was what brought her to today. She was both held aloft and crushed by two forces: her desire to improve the lives and social standing of the faunus, and her desire to spend as much time as she could around Yang Xiao Long.  
  
After a handful of deep breaths, she opened the door.  
  
“Willkommen.” She nodded in response to the greeting from Yang's Atlesian ex-pat co-worker, Weiss. Despite having the same qualifications as Yang, Weiss insisted on acting as both a therapist and the secretary for their practice. Yang had confided to Blake that no prospective secretaries had been orderly enough or quick enough for Weiss, so they elected to save Weiss the headaches, and the both of them the cost of a new hire who would be doomed from the start. “I don't see you on the schedule, Blake, but she'll be free in eight minutes.”  
  
“Good to know.” Blake took a seat and tried not to let the thought of what she was about to do overwhelm her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to continue working on another fic, but this idea came to me. I was thinking about Apartheid, Palestine, and the recent ongoing atrocities at the US's southern border and wondered what something like that might look like on Remnant. Then I decided to put all that in the background and the past, and wrote about the Bees in that world.
> 
> Title is from Edgar Allan Poe's Ulalume


	2. The Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's going on in Yang's head right now?

As soon as she heard her office door close behind her last patient, Yang hit the button telling Weiss not to let anyone in for twenty minutes and threw her head in her hands.

_Blake Belladonna_

She was the most interesting patient Yang had ever tried to help. She came across as a closed-off and brooding when Yang first met her, but she was quickly disabused of that notion. Blake certainly was brooding and quiet at times, but she was also warm, bubbly, elfin, or sarcastic at times. Her cackling laugh when she spoke about the food runs she pulled in the prison camps and the pranks she'd pulled was etched in Yang's memory. Even if it was at odds with Blake's otherwise honeyed voice, Yang couldn't help but try to make Blake's gremlin laugh at least once in every session (she had other laughs, too, but it seemed that she was at her most comfortable if the gremlin laugh came out).

Yang couldn't stop thinking about her. She wormed her way into Yang's head and heart no matter what she tried to distract herself with. She wasn't sure if Blake even realized how magnetic she was. She fought to overcome her demons and came back more determined each time she had a setback. If more of Yang's patients had Blake's courage or tenacity, Yang (and Weiss) would have to find another line of work.

Most of her patients did the bare minimum. They thought that a therapist would have some sort of magic solution. “Do this. Think about this other thing. After a few visits, all your problems will be gone.” Those sorts of promises only come from cultists and salespeople. Only a few of Yang's patients put in the required effort to fix their unhealthy behaviors or thoughts, and Blake was among them. She had figured out from the start what so few others accepted, even when Yang told it to them straight-out: there are no magic pills, tasks, or mantras. You are the only one who can heal your own head. I'll point you the right way wherever I can.

Just thinking about Blake got all the bumblebees in Yang's stomach buzzing. She'd tried to ask Ruby what to do about it, but Ruby had gotten hung up on the phrase.

“_Don't you mean butterflies, Yang?”_

“_Nope.”_

_"Are you sure?"_

Weiss had similarly been unhelpful. Yang wasn't surprised by that. Weiss's love life was just as barren as Yang's. People threw themselves at Weiss for her looks, her former status as a singing child prodigy, or her family's money. Even being disowned by her war criminal father hadn't stopped the latter category.

Yang could relate, outside of the gold diggers. She'd dealt with lechers and egotists who thought that their lust should outweigh her disgust for most of her life. The two of them had made a mistake when they first opened their practice by including portraits in their first advertisements. Yang bodily threw more than a few false patients out of their offices after they were flooded with poseurs who thought that they could score a date with a pretty picture. Yang and Weiss had nearly required deposits from first-time patients after that horrible first week. It was infuriating, unethical, and disgusting.

That's part of what tormented her about Blake. She's Yang's patient. It might not be illegal, but it would be wrong to pursue a relationship. But... The thought of Blake completing her therapy and not coming back, returning much less often, or drifting away, was painful. Yang couldn't remember hurt like that since learning about Raven. Should it feel like that with Blake? Should letting her go feel like a great loss?

Yang has no idea, but that's not the only thing about Blake she's trying to navigate.

There's a power imbalance between them. Blake shared a lot of her secrets with Yang, who couldn't really share much with Blake unless it had a bearing on how to help Blake. Yang knew she came across as approachable, but she wasn't sure herself how much of it was real and how much was a result of learning to put up happy-seeming walls early in life so she could take care of Ruby. 

With Blake, she felt less closed-off, more open, but she didn't know what that meant. She couldn't help but feel that it was all in her head, and she was just making it all up, this lightness. If only this were another problem she could think her way out of and not something to do with feelings.

Feelings weren't easy to navigate for Yang.

She wasn't used to acting on her own desires. For most of her life, she couldn't allow it. Outside of getting a PHD, she had rarely pursued anything for herself. There hadn't been time when she was a child caring for Ruby, and busting through post-secondary school as quickly as possible to minimize her student loan debt load had left her with little time to do more than hang out with Weiss or Ruby from time to time.

She'd never had time for introspection until establishing her practice. She found she liked herself, but she always wondered if she could have been better by taking a different path. Was she Yang, now? Was she still becoming Yang? Her scroll lit up with a message from Weiss as she mused.

“_When your break is over in seven minutes, Blake Belladonna is waiting for you.”_

Yang immediately flew into a panic. Why is she here today? (She's not on the schedule.) What does she want to work through? (Did something happen?) Is she done with me? (Probably not, a phone call would be adequate for canceling future appointments.) Deep breaths. (Remember to breathe Yang, you're not four anymore!)

Rip off the bandage or hope it falls off?

She sent a reply to Weiss.  _“Let her in, I'm ready_ .”

As Blake opened the door, Yang caught a glimpse of Blake's short, dark hair and amber eyes and knew she'd lied to Weiss as her heart roared in her ears...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to a therapist or psychologist, so I hope I've not done an injustice to the professions.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	3. She will wait no longer

No one left the office, but Weiss still told Blake to enter. She wondered if there were some clients who couldn't bear to leave home for a visit, or couldn't talk about their issues if they could see her reactions (even though those were minimal and professional during what Blake thought of as the serious part of a session).

As she got closer to Yang's desk, Blake noticed some scraps of bread crust, a stripped grapevine, and an empty yogurt cup in her garbage can. Lunch. Maybe she could look into detective work if she ever finished her chronicle.

Yang's face was slightly flushed, but she seemed to steel herself as Blake closed the door and sat in front of Yang's desk. Her face was calm and rapidly paling as Blake made herself comfortable.

“I didn't expect to see you so soon, Blake. Is everything alright?” She didn't look too concerned, but her voice wavered a bit.

“I'm fine. To be honest, I've never been better. That's why I came in today. I wanted to talk about it.” Blake took a deep breath before continuing. “I feel like myself, like the person I was before Atlas went mad.”

“So,” Yang drew out the word. “You feel like you've accomplished what you intended. And... You don't need to keep coming back to me. Us.” She looked a little misty-eyed at Blake's nod. “I knew it wouldn't be long. You've done so well, but it's always so bittersweet. Most people leave us because they don't put in the effort and get disappointed by their failure. When someone leaves because they've moved beyond needing our help, because they've healed... It's worth all the frustration.” She was still tearing up, but she smiled brightly at Blake through it.

“Yes. I have to believe in myself. I can't let doubts hold me back. I have a life worth living and a purpose for the foreseeable future.” As Blake paused, about to take the plunge, she looked up to meet Yang's eyes. Yang was smiling wistfully, but her eyes were clear. “There's just one more thing. There's one thing I need, Yang, from you.”

“From me?”

“Yes.” Blake took a deep breath before continuing. “When we left Atlas, none of us had much hope for the future. It made no sense that it took the rest of the world a year to react to Atlesian cruelty. We left Atlas because it was made clear that there was no future for us there, not even for those Faunus who were native to Atlas. I came from Menagerie, as you know. To fight for Faunus rights and to show the world Atlas's true nature. I guess you could say it worked, but it scarred me, and most others. I lost my faith in people until another Faunus brought us a food, showed us how to bring light to each other, but that really only applied to the other Faunus. It was difficult to trust humans, so difficult... Even after we got out.”

“And then I met you. You're genuine. I thought, very briefly, that it was all an act. Acting warm and welcoming to gain my trust for some purpose or just to keep me malleable. I didn't even think it through, just assumed that someone like you couldn't be real. Why would a human, would anyone, be so kind? You even worked with a Schnee! I was waiting for the same detachment or condescension, but it became clear that you genuinely wanted to help. And, you're different. I don't want to leave you behind. I think my life is better with you in it, Yang.”

Blake took some gratification from seeing that she had rendered Yang unable to form words, but she was smiling broadly.

“I lost 14 months of my life in Atlas. I'm not going to waste any time dancing around anything with you. I'd like to take you out to dinner. I need to see if you're feeling what I'm feeling.”

Yang rolled her shoulders as she shook off her speechlessness. “Did you know that your eyes glow when you're not holding back? It's mesmerizing.”

“My eyes glow? No one has ever mentioned it.” Blake frowned, but shrugged it off. “Maybe we can duplicate it this weekend.”

“Friday? I will make all the time in the world for you.”

Blake reached out to squeeze Yang's hands. “I like the sound of that. I'll send you a message as soon as I figure out the details.” (And after calling Ilia to gush, of course. Maybe she could shed some light on this glowing eyes business.)

“I'm looking forward to it, Blake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been 90% done with this chapter for about a month. I had writer's block over a very small section that was driving me mad.
> 
> I have worked ahead, so hopefully the rest of the story will follow in relatively short order.


	4. Dramatic Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Weiss think of all of this nonsense?

She was happy for Yang. Really, she was. She'd seen Yang sigh every time she let the door shut after walking Blake out of their offices. Of course Yang would be happy to get such a clear sign that her crush was reciprocated, but Weiss had spent the last few days shooting down every doubt that popped into Yang's head. The latest was some sort of abstract fear that Blake was doing this out of obligation and not genuine affection. It was a quick enough fix to reassure Yang that, while indecisive people might go along with the request of another person to date them even if their heart isn't in it, they don't seize the initiative as Blake did. (“She's had time to get to know you, Yang. It didn't discourage her. She wants this. You know better than to entertain your doubts like this.”)

Weiss was relieved that tomorrow it'd be over. The past two days had been a bizarre role reversal. Weiss was usually the one to assume the worst, while Yang was urging her to be confident. A self-doubting Yang was so contradictory that Weiss half-expected the real Yang to appear and admonish her opposite for taking her place.

_Weiss, what do I do about the imbalance? I know her, her stories, some of her secrets. She's clever, but there's only so much she could learn from me at work. I don't think I can talk about Raven yet. Or Summer, or..._

Weiss facepalmed and sent a pair of replies.

_Yang, just tell her stories. Tell her how we met. Everyone laughs at that one. You'll know when you're ready to tell her about Raven. You don't have to share everything right away._

_Also, go to bed, Yang. It's almost two._

Weiss hoped Yang would listen. Just one more day.

_You're right. You're right. G'night and thanks, Nice Queen. _ 👸   
  


Weiss threw herself back into her pillows and let out a long breath.

One. More. Day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write. Weiss suffering from the Bees' relationship drama will never fail to amuse me.


End file.
